We run with the elevated. Feel the leather of forever, yet slippery as if we dream in quick disarray of rain, afraid to awaken again, our poems too soon melted and forgotten. But there is symmetry to life's rapid transit. Like a feather, so much drifts away, yet still sticks to the wet glimmering rail.
We do our best to hold on.
Published by Hobo Camp Review,2018
Monday, March 11, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: faith,love,romance